


Blooming for you

by Sylencia



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emetophobia, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pre-Relationship, better safe than sorry for this one but mentions only, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21809527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylencia/pseuds/Sylencia
Summary: Tajima wakes up in an unknown place and tries to make sense out of it. But it's not what he had expected. Nor wanted.
Relationships: Senju Butsuma/Uchiha Tajima
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Blooming for you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Perelka_L](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perelka_L/gifts).



The light was blinding. Bright and everywhere, pouring into the room freely, the shutters having remained open for some reason. Giving everything around some yellow or orange hues, making some things look like melted gold and Tajima was quick to close his eyes again with a hoarse moan.  
  
Memories were a blur, his brain such a mess. It was hard to think, hard to wonder why there was so much light in his bedroom, it was rare he ever went to bed without closing the shutters and even then, his house was oriented in such a way the sun shouldn't be so bright in his room in the morning. It didn't make sense, the sun was supposed to rise on the other side of the house, the side where the other bedrooms were. So either it was late and it would explain why his body felt so heavy in bed. Or, this wasn't his bed.  
  
Trying to open his eyes again after a minute or two felt harder than the first time, even. His lids were heavy and the light so bright. He tried holding his hand up, to shield himself, but his arm remained where it was, sore to a point it made Tajima wonder what he had done the previous night.  
  
He was feeling like shit. And like he had one hell of a hangover and he internally cursed at himself. He wasn't of that age when a night of drinking was easy to handle the next morning anymore. He was old, his sons all were over seventeen of age. He wasn't fit enough anymore to get drunk, Tajima was well aware of it and he couldn't remember why he would have been drinking anyways. Whom he would have been drinking with either.  
  
His throat, though, was feeling raw. Each time he swallowed, it hurt, he could feel his saliva slide down his oesophagus and burn on its way down and each breath he was taking seemed to pull on his lungs and there was this strange deep whistle in his breathing that sounded bad to his ear. Bad enough for him to try and open his eyes again and he managed, eventually.  
  
The sight he was met with helped dissipate the fog. Kind of. For the mass he had thought looked like melted gold just a minute earlier wasn't exactly that. But the sun so bright on Butsuma's brown hair had always looked gorgeous. Melted gold indeed, shimmering, cascading so easily on his shoulders and chest, silk-like locks framing his face as he was .. sleeping ? And snoring, where he sat in a wooden chair and this, definitely wasn't his place. He didn't own such a chair. Also, why would Butsuma, his best friend, be sleeping in a chair next his bed.  
  
Tajima tried to make sense out of all this. Out of this stranger room, it wasn't his, nor Butsuma's, he was quite aware of it, he had helped his friend move to his new house after his divorce after all. Out of Butsuma's presence as well. It wasn't that Tajima didn't like seeing him there but. He couldn't understand why would Butsuma be sleeping next to his bed like that.  
  
The idea they could have gone drinking together and found themselves some hotel room because they hadn't been in a good enough shape to drive back home was shut down as quickly as Tajima thought about it. Butsuma only ever drank alcohol moderately. A glass of wine for dinner once in a while, a little more, sometimes, for specific occasions. And he was too much a lightweight to handle more anyways. So. No, they didn't go drinking together. It just wasn't Butsuma's thing.  
  
His body, though, was feeling terrible and Tajima wondered for an instant if he didn't have a car accident. It would explain the pain, the discomfort, the stranger place and, it did look like a hospital room, Tajima realized after a moment, when he finally detached his eyes from Butsuma and looked around. There was another bed on his left, empty, but it was one of these medicalized beds that were easy enough to recognize.  
  
His eyes slid toward Butsuma again, after a short time. His expression was relaxed as he slept but the circles under his eyes said he probably did need all the rest he could get. And Gods, he was going to be so sore when he'd wake up, seeing the way he was sitting in that chair. Tajima half wanted to wake his friend up, even if just for the sake of his body, but didn't want to, at the same time. Butsuma did look like he needed the rest and Tajima didn't want to interrupt it.  
  
And so he remained where he was, not sure he'd be able to leave bed anyways, at this point, trying to focus on memories, to understand why in hell he was in a hospital room and how he had ended up here and wondering when he'd be able to leave it as well. There was only a monitor around him, for his heart. No intravenous infusion, no tube in his throat. It couldn't have been too bad, right ?  
  
Butsuma startled awake, eventually. So hard Tajima too jumped in his bed, his heart racing for a second then slowing down again, his eyes wide as he stared at his friend and Butsuma, having not noticed he was awake yet, rubbed his eyes, the bit of saliva off his lips. He stretched, moaning when his back popped, he cursed. Then he looked at him and froze, blinked, breathed a relieved sigh.  
  
"You're awake," Butsuma whispered. A statement, nothing more. Tajima half wanted to snort.  
  
"You look like shit," he managed to articulate despite how rough and painful his throat was. Butsuma seemed to notice as he grabbed the glass of water on the nearby table, helped him drink via a straw.  
  
"Thanks," was Butsuma's answer. He took the time to stretch while he was standing. His back popped again, his sweater rode up his belly a little. Tajima looked away.  
  
"What happened ?"  
  
"You apparently have the Hanahaki disease," Butsuma glanced at him, "At some advanced stage, which is surprising since you never deemed it important enough to tell me. And you had a fit last night while we were having dinner. You would have died choking on the flowers, hadn't I driven you to the hospital."  
  
Tajima didn't answer. There was obvious reproach in Butsuma's tone and Tajima would have felt guilty, in other circumstances. Probably. Not then though. Not when Butsuma himself was responsible of his disease.  
  
How Tajima had fallen in love with his friend still was a mystery to him. They only ever were acquaintances, for a very long time, only exchanging polities when they dropped their kids off at the other's house because apparently, the whole bunch of them were friends and loved hanging out together. It had been this way for a long time, years and years. Until their respective wives decided it would be great to get to know each other, to go on holidays together, that kind of things.  
  
Butsuma remained his friend when Ayumi, Tajima's wife, decided to divorce and the judge gave her custody of all five of their kids. There hadn't been love anymore and so the divorce had been easy enough. Tajima had given her the house because the kids loved the place and loved their space and he had moved to another place, his current little house near the outskirts of Konoha.  
  
Butsuma divorced too, years later. His divorce was a bit more difficult, as his wife left with another man. But he made do and the two of them started to hang out together often enough, sharing several hobbies and they both loved that one restaurant downtown. An easy friendship, really.  
  
Tajima couldn't say when his feelings had gone from friendship to romantic love. It had been a slow enough building for him not to notice a thing, too happy to spend time with the other man anyways. He wasn't a fool, he had been aware, after a time, that his feelings were nothing platonic anymore. He had noticed the time he had been spending just looking at the other man, had noticed how his chest tightened sometimes, how he leaned into Butsuma's innocent touches, how his smile had become precious to him.  
  
The disease hadn't been triggered right away, though. For he had had hope, at first, hope that, maybe, Butsuma would return his feelings, and they would start some romance together.  
  
How stupid he had been. For Butsuma had been so excited to tell him about the woman he had met at some random supermarket and how he had asked for her number and would have a date with her soon. The petals had appeared that exact same day, the moment Tajima had gone home and he had known, right away, that it would probably kill him someday.  
  
It had been easy to handle, at first. To hide as well. It had been a couple of petals here and there, especially after meeting with Butsuma, mostly after meeting with his girlfriend and having watched the two of them give each other doe eyes for hours. Having watched him hold her hand or touch the small of her back or whisper into her ear and making her laugh. Tajima wasn't afraid to say he was jealous. But then again, this love he was feeling for his friend was going to kill him someday soon now so he was allowed to be.  
  
It was what his specialised doctor had said, during his last appointment. He had stated the flowers and roots were taking over his lungs, spreading and snaring them and it was why he had felt so easily out of breath lately, that it was already surprising enough it had taken so long to begin with. Most patients suffocated after a year or two. Tajima had lived with the disease for almost ten years by now. And was quite aware that he wouldn't last long anymore.  
  
He had not told anyone but one of his sons, though. Or, more exactly, Madara had once stumbled on him wheezing and throwing up flowers and had understood everything right away. Madara always had been way too smart anyways. He had yelled and he had begged for him to admit to Butsuma he was in love with him. Tajima had refused, not wanting to make a fool of himself. Madara hadn't spoken to him ever since. But his last words rang so hard at his ears each time the disease manifested itself again.  
  
"So you'd rather die than admit you're in love with him ? You probably don't deserve anything but death, then."  
  
Madara always had been so brutally honest. Tajima could have never been prouder of his son than he had been that day.  
  
Memories slowly returned to him, eventually and Tajima wished he could have rubbed his eyes, as they burned slightly. Memories from the previous night. How he and Butsuma had spent the afternoon together, watching these movies they both enjoyed, how they were having dinner and Butsuma had been speaking of that country he had planned to go to the next year, how he had saved up so much money for the trip and couldn't wait and how it had been a dream to him, ever since he was a kid because of that scene from that movie he loved. He had sounded and looked so passionate about it, his smile so big, years taken away with his excitement.  
  
Tajima could remember the short intake of air, his lungs compressed with the flowers growing in him and the roots wrapped around them, how it hadn't been enough, how he had tried several times until he had started to choke. How quickly light-headed he had felt, his sight blurring almost immediately, how he had fallen off his chair, on his hands and knees and had started to cough deep red petals. But they hadn't been red because of their color, but red from the blood that had accompanied each fit lately.  
  
"They gave you the .."  
  
"The dissolvant," Tajima mumbled. It wasn't the first time he was injected that product. It usually helped the roots to retreat and leave the patient to breath a little easier again. But it was a short time solution. The flowers and the roots would come back full force in a couple of days again. No wonder he was feeling so bad, though. It wasn't the most friendly medication that existed but it was the only one when it came to the Hanahaki.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me ?"  
  
Tajima winced, the words so similar to Madara's back then. And the tone …  
  
"I would have, someday," he said and it was almost the truth. Almost. He would have, on his deathbed, most likely.  
  
Butsuma remained silent for a while. Then, "Do I know her ?"  
  
Tajima probably would have had another fit, hadn't the dissolvant still been active in his system. He could feel the fit, even if it was held back by the medication, he could feel his body get ready for it, the saliva pooling in his mouth to try and protect it, his stomach churning, his muscles straining, hurting.  
  
It hurt. It hurt so badly for Tajima to hear these words. To hear the man he loved ask him who he was in love him, ask about a "her". Tajima understood, he did, for he never really spoke of this with his friend, it never seemed important enough to discuss it, even after all these years. Somehow, Tajima had hoped Butsuma would have known. That he would have guessed he was .. well. Alright, maybe he couldn't have, as Tajima himself didn't know what sexuality he felt closest to. He wasn't straight, as he knew he too was attracted to men, had been before he even met his former wife. He did date a couple of guys, back when he was in college. Maybe he was bisexual, as Izuna had come out to him when he had been fifteen. Maybe he just met people and fell for them no matter their gender. He wasn't certain there was a name for it.  
  
But deep down he had hoped Butsuma would understand. One way or another. That he would get it. He had been stupid, hadn't he ? Butsuma clearly had expected him to be in love with a woman. "Her".  
  
"Him," he eventually corrected. Mostly out of spite. Mostly because he wasn't sure he cared enough for the consequences anymore. His doctor had said he didn't have long anymore anyways.  
  
Butsuma's lips opened and closed several times. Then he looked away. "I .. didn't know you … you know ..."  
  
Ah, here it was. The infamous awkwardness Madara had spoken about so much, back when he had started to date Tobirama, one of Butsuma's sons. Back when Madara had still talked to him, Tajima thought bitterly. When he'd screech out of frustration because Butsuma had no idea how to handle anything feelings related and was so terribly awkward when Tobirama had dared asking his father for some money to go on a date with Madara. Butsuma wasn't a homophobe. But Gods, he was bad at interacting with his sons, especially when it came to feelings or sexuality or anything remotely personal.  
  
Tajima had never imagined he'd witness it. But he could understand Madara's frustration now.  
  
"Him," Butsuma repeated after a second. As if he was trying to convince himself it was the right word. Tajima rolled his eyes.  
  
"I've been in love with him for years," he admitted. It wasn't spite anymore. He wasn't sure. He didn't care, he had almost died already. "Hell, my doctor can't begin to understand how I managed to last that long."  
  
"Can't you tell .. him?"  
  
Tajima snorted so hard he started coughing and he had to lean on his side not to choke on saliva, Butsuma quick to help him as he did. Placing his hand on his shoulder, pushing his hair away with the other. His fingers so warm against his skin. Tajima shivered.  
  
"Are you alright ? I can call a doctor .."  
  
"I'm fine," Tajima rasped, out of breath. But he pushed himself up to sit up, when the fit passed, he grabbed the bed's remote so the top part would go up and hold his back. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, quick to hide it when he saw specks of blood on his skin. "And .. I can't tell him."  
  
"But you'd be healed if he loved you back."  
  
At that, Tajima couldn't help but look at Butsuma in the eyes. The other had sat on the edge of the bed, so close now. Caring as he always was. His thigh pushing against his. His hand near his that was smeared with blood. He was looking so tired, so terribly drained despite how he had been sleeping earlier, his shoulders hunched and it was unlike him, Butsuma had been raised by a former military father and usually held himself straight and proper. His hair somehow not a mess while Tajima could feel his own sticking up in random directions on top of his head. His clothes rumpled, slightly. Blood on his shoulder, Tajima noticed eventually, probably when he had to carry him to his car when he had the fit the previous night.  
  
His words, though. Words his doctor had repeated before. The flowers would retreat and disappear, was his love ever reciprocated. It was how the disease worked after all. It appeared when one fell in love and their feelings was unrequited. It healed if the person was loved back to the same extent of their own feelings. His doctor had tried to prove him that this could ever happen to him too. His sorry smile, when Tajima had finally explained him the whole situation, had said enough.  
  
"He will never love me back," Tajima eventually whispered, his throat tight. "Not like that anyways."  
  
Butsuma continued watching him for a moment. His beautiful brown eyes fixed on his, lost in thoughts and he blinked, eventually.  
  
"You're going to die," he mumbled, his voice breaking on the last word. "And you've known for so long that you've already accepted it."  
  
Tajima didn't answer.  
  
"I'm … I'm going to go tell the nurses you're awake," Butsuma cleared his throat, quick to stand and look away, he rubbed his eyes. "And tell your kids you're mostly fine."  
  
"My …."  
  
"I called them the moment the doctors took you away in the emergency room," Butsuma stated, making sure not to look at him now. "It seemed to be as much a surprised to them as it was to me to be told you have the Hanahaki disease. They're in the waiting room."  
  
"Is .. is Madara …" Tajima couldn't help but stammer, his throat tight and his tears burning his eyes.  
  
"He was the first one to arrive," Butsuma shrugged. He was aware of his current situation with his son, but had called him anyways. Tajima couldn't begin to imagine how pissed Madara must be now. "He asked me to stay with you while he took care of his brothers."  
  
"Could you .. ask him if …"  
  
Tajima didn't have to finish. "Sure."  
  
The nurses came first. They cleaned him up, fed him, gave him some medication for the pain. They said the doctor would visit him in an hour or so, that his specialised doctor had been called and should arrive soon as well. That he was supposed to rest, that it had been a close call. Tajima barely listened to them. He did, at first but it didn't last, as Madara had knocked at the door, entered and was now waiting for the nurses to be finished with him, leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed and looking at him.  
  
Tajima almost couldn't believe it. Couldn't take his eyes away from his son, fearing he might disappear if he did. Couldn't hear half the things the nurses were saying because he was too distracted and he was completely unaware of the moment they finally left.  
  
All he was seeing was Madara. Years it had been and Madara had grown to be such a beautiful man. Oh he has been already, before but here had matured during these years and Tajima couldn't help but feel proud, somehow. He couldn't help but smile too.  
  
Madara walked to the bed, eventually. He climbed on top of it. Then hugged the life out of him.  
  
Part of Tajima could barely understand what was happening. He had never imagined he'd see Madara again, not after their fight the last time they had met, not after realizing how he had fucked everything up if every way they could be fucked. He couldn't hold back the tears now, as Madara was holding him tight, he couldn't control anything. It was too much and, seeing how Madara was shaking, it had been one hell of a close call. Tajima knew what it meant, he knew he wouldn't be so lucky, the next time it would happen, the next time he'd have a fit. And Madara probably was aware of it as well. Hence why he had come, how he had been the first one to arrive. He had been the only one to know how severe it truly was and had feared for him and Tajima wanted to thank his son, thank him for being there but he couldn't talk, he couldn't begin to decide what to say.  
  
Because he knew. And Madara knew as well. That he could have died, this time, hadn't it been for Butsuma. And they would have never seen each other again.  
  
Tajima didn't want to imagine how bad Madara would have felt for the rest of his life.  
  
"Dad, I'm so … so …"  
  
"Shh," Tajima forced the sound out of his throat, he kissed his son's head, combing his fingers through his hair as he did so. "It's alright. It's all good, I understand. I love you Madara, I do. And you were right."  
  
"Please don't …"  
  
"Let's forget about this, yes ?" Tajima forced a smile, his fatherly instincts kicking in, as he couldn't bear to feel Madara crying on his shoulder, as he couldn't allow it. "I'm fine."  
  
"For how long?"  
  
Brutally honest, as always. Tajima looked away but didn't lose his smile.  
  
"Where are you staying with Tobi?" He asked, instead of answering. "You can come home, I'd be happy to have you both."  
  
"You sure ? We can stay at Izuna's, he already said it was fine."  
  
Tajima shrugged. "Whichever you like then. Up to you."  
  
Madara was quick to accept the invitation. They didn't have more time to discuss it anyways, as first the doctors, then the rest of his sons, plus Tobirama, showed up. Madara didn't leave his side. He eventually fell asleep against his shoulder and Tajima spent the afternoon watching over his son.

* * *

Returning home after a couple of days at the hospital felt strange. For part of him was well aware that the next time he would go there, the next time he'd be admitted in the ER, he wouldn't leave anymore. It was what the doctors had said, both the one from the hospital and his own that had followed his case for years now, when they had visited. The disease was too advanced now, his lungs reduced so much it was a wonder he still was able to stand, his organs pushed aside as the roots and the flowers were growing, making him sick most of the time.  
  
Tajima was mostly fine, though. Drained, that he'd admit easily, but he had gotten used to the idea long ago now. He knew the day was coming and he was close now, he knew Death was on its way and that last fit had been his last warning. Everything was prepared already anyways, he had planned his funerals and had written down his will. His sons would get everything, of course, and he had written each one of them a letter to tell them everything about the disease, how he hadn't wanted to talk about it so they wouldn't worry, how they were the best children one could ever hope to have. How he loved them all.  
  
The letter to Madara was different, of course. He was asking for his forgiveness, instead. Begging for it, almost. It all sounded silly now, as Madara was living with him and his sons were aware of the disease thanks to Butsuma calling them when he was in the hospital.  
  
Tajima only hoped they understood why he didn't tell them earlier.  
  
Madara had decided to come live with him though and Tajima couldn't have been happier. Weeks couldn't exactly get back on years, he was painfully aware of it but their fight was forgotten for now. All that had been said that day, when Madara had found him and had understood who he was in love with, all of it was pushed aside so they could appreciate what was left of time for them. Tajima had missed his son a lot, after all, missed talking with him and sharing anything with him. Not that Madara was his favorite, Tajima always tried not to have a favorite among his five children but not having been in contact with him for so long had broken his heart. He had tried reaching out, he had tried to call and sent messages, to which Madara never answered to. Madara felt guilty about it, it was obvious enough sometimes but Tajima always tried to brush it off, to change subject when he noticed the discomfort in his son. He always tried to keep his son's mental as light as he could, despite the circumstances.  
  
Today, though, Madara had been forced to leave, for work. He had been able to excuse himself from work for almost a five days already, asking his boss for days off so he could come see his ill father but he couldn't be gone for too long, his rank in the office too high for it. Madara was the manager of a really important branch of his company, in Ame. And would drive there and back for one hour just so he could stay with him.  
  
Tobirama, on his side, worked freelance and would be staying with him, stating he could work from anywhere anyways, as long as he had his laptop and an internet connection.  
  
Tajima's relationship with Tobirama had always been a singular one, for Tajima had mostly adopted Tobirama has his own ever since he and Madara had started dating. Not that there had ever been any real problem between Tobirama and his parents. But Tobirama had always had this easiness to open up to him. Tajima had welcomed him to his home without any care in the world when Madara had first told him he liked him, and Tobirama had always been comfortable around him anyways, mostly stating it was easy to discuss with him. Now that Tajima had had a taste of Butsuma's awkwardness, he had entirely understood what Tobirama had meant back then.  
  
Tobirama was working in the living room, when Tajima left his bedroom, that morning and headed for the open kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee.  
  
"Morning," Tobirama whispered when Tajima slouched on the couch by his side, sighing deeply. "Slept well ?"  
  
"Horribly," was Tajima's short answer.  
  
"We heard," Tobirama admitted after a pause, only now looking up from his screen. "I had to hold Madara back to leave you to handle it, as you asked us."  
  
Tajima grunted. Tobirama glanced at his screen again, then placed his laptop on the coffee table.  
  
"He .. he probably wouldn't want me to tell you but. He did try coming back, several times over the years. Tried to send messages for your birthday. Ask how you were feeling. Tried answering yours too," Tobirama stated, his gone nothing but soft. "He thought you'd reject him, somehow."  
  
Tajima sipped at his coffee. He tried not to sigh. He failed.  
  
"Do you know what he told me, that day ?"  
  
Tobirama hesitated. "Yes."  
  
"I've thought about his words each time I had a fit, each time I was wondering how many more I'd have before I did die," Tajima whispered, and he rubbed his face. It was too early for this kind of conversation. But what could he say ? "Yet, I would have taken him in the exact next minute, had he asked. He's my son. I would have never rejected him, even if he had told me worse than that. If it were any possible."  
  
Tobirama shifted uncomfortably. But he eventually shifted closer, grabbed his free hand, some of his father's awkwardness showing at the moment. Tobirama, even if comfortable with him, always did show himself reserved most of the time. Today was no exception.  
  
"So, my father …"  
  
Tajima shrugged. "I appears so."  
  
Tobirama didn't say anything else. Tajima knew he too was aware of what it meant. Tobirama knew his father well. And knew he wouldn't return such feelings.  
  
Madara came home late, that day. So late Tajima had fallen asleep on the couch while he and Tobirama had been watching a movie together, and this despite the nap he had taken during the afternoon. He was so exhausted, all the time and he wished he could at least feel good enough for the time he had left. But it appeared he would be feeling miserable instead and Tajima was kind of pissed about it. And it tired him even more.  
  
Madara and Tobirama were kissing by his side when Tajima opened the eyes and he was quick to look away, giving them some intimacy if he could. The fact they lived at his place didn't mean they had to change their habits and Tajima had told them just that when they had settled. Even if he knew they would anyways, if only for his sake. Tajima noticed the hot plate on the coffee table, the glass of water beside it, he wondered if Madara had just arrived but didn't ask. Half of him wanted to go to bed and pass out until tomorrow.  
  
The other half wanted to spend as much time with his son he could, to catch up before the inevitable end.  
  
"Hey Dad," Madara soon was smiling, grabbing his plate and starting to eat dinner. Tobirama excused himself, stating he needed to check something on his notes. Tajima smiled, knowing he mostly wanted them to be just the two of them for a while.  
  
"How was your day," Tajima kind of weakly questioned. He wasn't properly awake yet. Gods, he hated this state he was in.  
  
"Good. Have you eaten ?"  
  
Tajima shook his head. "I felt nauseous."  
  
Madara grimaced. Tajima shrugged.  
  
"I'm good," he told his son, hoping he sounded at least a little convincing. "Tobi cooked for lunch and I ate well. I'm not exactly hungry right now."  
  
The movie he had been watching with Tobirama was over, Tajima realized after a while, glancing toward the television and he sat up properly, rubbed his face as he was yawning. He already knew he wouldn't last long tonight, even with how much time he wanted to spend with Madara. It was a shame, considering. Tajima only hoped Madara wouldn't be around when he'd leave this world. He didn't want his son to witness this.  
  
"I .. wanted to discuss something with you but I can see how tired you are. Tomorrow ?" Madara offered, with a soft smile.  
  
"Aren't you working tomorrow ?"  
  
Madara's smile widened slightly. "Not tomorrow, no, it's Saturday."  
  
Right, Tajima thought and he nodded.  
  
"Sure. I'll .. go to bed now. Take good care of Tobi, alright ? He kept me company all day, he must be tired."  
  
Madara didn't answer. Tajima passed out the moment he was lying in bed.

* * *

Tajima was in a better shape the next morning. Probably because he had slept so much the previous day, probably because of his nap and how he had maybe only watched the first fifteen minutes of the movies and then had passed out so hard in bed. His body wasn't as sore anymore, the medication finally fading from his system. He hated that thing, he really did.  
  
The smell of pancakes was floating around the house, as Tajima exited his bedroom and went to take a shower to wash away the previous day's sluggishness. He was even feeling good enough to grab the hair clipper and shorten the locks at the back of his head, as he had done for many years now, leaving longer strands on the front. The bags under his eyes did look terrible, worse than Madara’s ever did and his body was showing his sickness, his skin pale and his ribs showing a little as he hadn't eaten enough lately. But he had some energy, at least, some more composure than he had had ever since he had left the hospital and he even put an effort to dress into a pair of dark jeans rather than the usual sweatpants.  
  
Tobirama was flipping some good looking pancakes when Tajima finally reached the kitchen, focused on his task while Madara was pouring glasses of juice. The latter smiled, half hugging him as he walked past him when Tajima settled down on his usual chair, the former addressing him a soft nod. Tajima sighed.  
  
"You two are spoiling me rotten this morning, aren't you ?"  
  
"In fact," Tobirama stated from his spot by the stove, "Madara loves waking me up with breakfast on weekends. He does burn the pancakes though, hence why I'm making them today."  
  
"You didn't have to tell him that," Madara groaned, only half annoyed.  
  
"He's your dad, he's probably aware how bad at cooking you are anyways," Tobirama shrugged, snorting when Madara pinched his waist. Tajima shook his head. He had missed their antics.  
  
They ate in casual silence. It was a nice morning, the sun was already shining brightly and Madara had opened the kitchen window to let some fresh air in. From where he was sitting, Tajima could easily hear the birds chirping in the trees in the front yard. He had chosen this neighborhood for how calm it usually was, so far away from the core of the city. Madara would be the one inheriting the house when he'd leave this world. He had never told his son, though and probably wouldn't.  
  
But he had always thought Madara and Tobirama needed some place to stay on their own whenever they visited Konoha. It was only fair the house went to him after his death.  
  
"Dad ?"  
  
Tajima snapped out of his thoughts, grimacing when he realized it must have lasted some time as both Madara and Tobirama were staring at him, he placed his fork down, cleared his throat.  
  
"Yes ?"  
  
Madara pinched his lips. "I was asking if you wanted more pancakes."  
  
"Sure."  
  
Tobirama flipped them in his plate almost immediately, then rose to his feet and excused himself, kissing the top of Madara's head as he did so. Tajima couldn't help smiling at the behavior, as he watched Tobirama walk away, he glanced at his son.  
  
"You could tell him I don't mind if he stays when you want to discuss anything important with me," he told his son, rolling his eyes then sighing because of Madara's obvious surprise. "I'm not dead yet, and I'm still your father. I know something's up when you look at me like that."  
  
"I ..," Madara hesitated, then he shrugged, straightening. "In fact, I'd rather he's not here for this. You know he doesn't handle arguments nicely."  
  
"Are you already planning to argue with me ?" Tajima questioned, raising an eyebrow. Madara didn't let himself be intimidated. It almost felt like something he had already lived and Tajima knew what was coming before Madara spoke again.  
  
"You should go on a date with Butsuma. It could even be here. Tobi and I can go at Izuna's for the night. You invite Butsuma, I can have some food delivered and you do what you have to do."  
  
Tajima didn't answer just yet. He grabbed his fork instead, cut a small part of the top pancake, he played with it for a second. Then he shrugged.  
  
"Do you think I never thought about it ? That I never imagined the dozens of way I could maybe tell him about all this. How I'm literally dying over him, and that if maybe, just maybe, he returned my feelings, I could be saved ?"  
  
"But you didn't try, did you ?" Madara was quick to point out.  
  
"Why would I when I already know what's going to happen ?"  
  
Madara blinked. Then he groaned out of frustration. "I sometimes can't believe how stubborn you are."  
  
"Well, you didn't get it from your mother, did you?" Tajima couldn't help snorting and it did make Madara smile a little. "I .. get it Madara. I understand that you'd want me to try everything if it could save me. We already had this conversation and we both know how it ended. But .. I'm not even sure I'd heal, if he did return my feelings, with how advanced the disease is."  
  
"Isn't it worth a shot though ?" Madara mumbled and Tajima's throat tightened at the broken tone. "I .. I don't want you to die. And I especially don't want you to die knowing you didn't even try."  
  
That was it. When Tajima realized that if he didn't do it for himself, he'd do it for Madara. Oh, he had no doubt all of his sons had been quite a mess ever since that night at the hospital, they hadn't stopped texting Madara and Tobirama, asking them about his state, asking when they'd be able to visit, when he wouldn't be too weak for visits anymore and Tajima wanted to see them as much as he wanted to spend time with Madara but Madara always had been more sensitive and Madara had know and they had that fight so long ago and had spent so much time without interacting.  
  
And here he was today. Still hoping, still trying and Tajima rubbed his face.  
  
"Alright," he whispered, eventually. "I'll try. But we won't push it if it doesn't work. I don't want Butsuma to feel pressured in any way. Nor do I want him to feel guilty."  
  
Madara didn't answer. Instead, he stood and hugged him, wrapping both arms around his neck and shoulders and Tajima closed his eyes. It probably was a mistake. But he couldn't say no to Madara. Not again, not after how it turned out the last time.  
  
"I'll take care of everything. You just rest and I get everything ready, yes ?"  
  
Tajima nodded. He tried not to feel bad when he heard how touched Madara sounded. He failed.

* * *

Madara had organised the date for the same evening. Not because he had wanted to rush it, but because Tajima had looked in a good enough shape today and Butsuma was available too.  
  
They had told Butsuma he wanted to thank him for taking him to the hospital and basically saving his life. Tajima hadn't wanted to use such a lie but it wasn't as he had had his word in this. Not really, as Tobirama had been quick to lead him to his bedroom to help him select some nice clothes for the date.  
  
They were overdoing it, Tajima kept telling himself. He didn't need all this. The clothes were simple enough at least but Madara had actually prepared the table with the fancy China from his grandmother and the cutlery that wasn't even used for Christmas dinners. As for the candles, even Tobirama rolled his eyes at them but didn't comment on them. He did share a look with Tajima, whispering a soft "sorry" for Madara's sake and Tajima laughed it off. He'd get rid of the candles at least. They were too much.  
  
The food, though, smelled amazing. Madara had called one of the best food services downtown, had put the order for the same night adding one big tip because of the late notice and they had done well, really. Tajima did hope he would be able to stomach it all and not feel sick before he could give it a try. He had eaten almost normally today. He did have some hopes.  
  
"Alright we'll be going now if you don't need anything else from us," Madara was saying and he knelt in front of him as Tajima had sat on the couch while he waited. "Remember, just .."  
  
"Are you actually going to give your old man tips for a date ?" Tajima tilted his head to the side, then he shook it. "I've dated people since I divorced your mother, you know ? I'm not entirely clueless."  
  
"I .. didn't want to know."  
  
"Come on, love," Tobirama sighed and Madara furiously blushed at the endearment. "We should go before my father arrives. Tajima obviously got this."  
  
Madara didn't need to be told twice and he was quick to follow after his man, looking as shocked as he was, even after he passed the front door.  
  
The sudden silence was strange, for Tajima, as he sat there on his own and waited. He had grown so used to having Madara and Tobirama around him, so quickly, or just one of the two at a time only, that he hadn't realized how always so lively his house had been with them. It was kind of strange for him to have one of his grown sons living with him, but Tajima couldn't help but appreciate it. It felt a little less lonely, on a daily basis. His life had been quite lonely lately after all.  
  
He had wanted to live in this neighborhood because of how quiet it was but having his son over for such a short amount of time had him realize that it maybe wasn't what he needed the most.  
  
Then again, why would he move now, when all he had left were some weeks ? When he was not even sure he'd reach the end of the year ? Or of the month, for all he knew ?  
  
The knock actually startled him hard, when it echoed in the ambient silence and Tajima rubbed his clammy palms on his jeans, suddenly way too nervous.  
  
It .. had been a bad idea, he thought as he stood and slowly stumbled to the door. He shouldn't have accepted but, then again, he hadn't wanted to have yet another fight with Madara. What if he lost Butsuma's friendship over this ? What if Butsuma made it even more difficult ? What if he didn't understand? What if ..  
  
Butsuma was looking as nice as he usually did, when Tajima opened the door. His clothes were becoming on hom and his hair loosely tied in his back, Hashirama's resemblance with him so obvious for a second, until he cleared his throat and the soft lines of his face hardened slightly and showed his age again.  
  
"Hey," Tajima greeted him, as he always did, stepping aside to let him in. Butsuma did, casually hanging his jacket on the rack of the entrance and Tajima was going to ask his friend how he was feeling when he realized that Butsuma had frozen on the spot, his hand hanging mid-air, his lips parting.  
  
Tajima almost cursed out loud. Because he hadn't put away the candles on the dinner table as he had planned and with the dim lights around the dining area, it looked exactly how this was. A dinner date around candles.  
  
Silence lasted for one awful amount of time. The two of them frozen like idiots near the front door, Butsuma staring at the table, Tajima staring at Butsuma, waiting for his reaction. Reaction that wasn't coming. Which made it even more awkward and Tajima knew he had to do something, before it became worse but he had no idea what he was supposed to do to begin with. He hadn't got this. At all.  
  
Surprisingly, it was Butsuma who reacted first. By just turning toward him, eyes wide like saucers and lower jaw hanging low and so stiff he was making one terribly good impersonation of a robot. He didn't say a thing but Tajima could see the cogs working.  
  
It was too late to deny a thing anyways, Tajima eventually thought. So, he straightened, he held his head high. Looked at the other man in the eyes. Waited.  
  
"Me ?" Butsuma eventually sputtered, his voice nothing but a murmur, hoarse and confused and Tajima tilted his head to the side slightly, he couldn't help the smirk.  
  
"Don't underestimate yourself," he teased, just because he could. "You're not half ugly."  
  
That, at least, seemed to take Butsuma by surprise and he let out a short snort, followed by the shake of his head. He didn't dare looking at him again just now, though. Confused and embarrassed as well.  
  
"Do you mind .. discussing it ?"  
  
Butsuma shrugged, as if it were hard for him to talk again. Tajima led him to the couch, made sure to blow the candles out on his way, he sat beside his friend.  
  
Talking, though, seemed nearly impossible, after a time. There was an awkwardness, the same kind he had felt back at the hospital, when he had admitted the person he was in love with was a man and again Butsuma was showing his great lack of empathy and communication skills. He was incapable of actually doing anything it seemed and Tajima couldn't help but wonder how he even managed to raise four kids without fucking them up that much. It was a feat in itself. But not today's subject.  
  
Tajima looked up, eventually. He looked at Butsuma's beautiful face, the lines of it as he was obviously trying to process what he had learned tonight. It was heavy for him, probably. To be realizing that his friend was in love with him. And that it meant Tajima was dying because he didn't return his romantic feelings. It showed, in his eyes and it had been exactly why Tajima hadn't wanted to ever tell the man.  
  
Gods, Butsuma hadn't needed to know he was killing his friend like that. He hadn't needed to be told such a horrible truth.  
  
It was too late now, Tajima thought, as he closed his eyes for a second to try and keep his composure. His throat was tight and his belly was hurting with anxiety and he knew he shouldn't have listened to Madara but he had been too much a coward. He hadn't wanted to have yet another fight with his son. Hadn't wanted them to argue and not talk anymore again. Not when he knew he would be gone soon enough. He hadn't wanted to die knowing he was in cold with Madara.  
  
"You .. don't have to do anything," Tajima eventually said, the guilt weighting hard on him now. "I didn't want you to know. Didn't want you to feel pressured but I guess that just knowing is enough pressure now .. l am .. sorry Butsuma. I really am."  
  
"So for all this time …" Butsuma trailed, not looking up, his tone rough. "You said years. And you were sick for all that time and …"  
  
Tajima didn't answer. He wasn't sure anything he would say would be enough anyways.  
  
"How ? How did you ..," Butsuma trailed but it seemed he couldn't even say the words.  
  
"I didn't mean to," Tajima stated but it was the truth. He never meant to fall in love with his friend. But it wasn't as if he could have helped it either. "It's just something that happened."  
  
"How long exactly ?"  
  
Tajima smiled, looking up. "Ten years."  
  
The way Butsuma's eyes widened would have been comical, hadn't it broken his heart at the same time. Because he knew Butsuma didn't return his feelings, he was so shocked with the whole thing, it was obvious enough. To know Tajima had been in love with a man had surprised him already. To realize he was the one Tajima was in love with, and for all that time ? Butsuma was looking understandably astonished.  
  
"I am sorry," Tajima said again and he wanted to grab his friend's hand for comfort but decided against it. He wasn't sure Butsuma would accept the contact. It's be fair if he didn't want to be touched by him at the moment. "I .. get it if you want to leave. If you don't want to see me again after that. I didn't want to tell you but Madara convinced me to at least try and it was a bad idea. Just .. just don't think it's your fault in any way. Please."  
  
Butsuma blinked, then said, "What ?"  
  
Tajima didn't dare looking up. That tone was so cold and it made his anxiety rise even more. Gods he was going to throw up. He didn't have the time to think of any answer though because Butsuma slowly turned to him.  
  
"Do you truly think I'm going to leave ?" Butsuma breathed out and he was sounding almost angry now. "That I'm going to just .. give up?"  
  
Tajima frowned. Confused. He couldn't understand a word Butsuma was saying and his anger made him feel uncomfortable. He never heard such a tone in Butsuma's voice before. Not even when he divorced his wife.  
  
"That I'm going to stand back and watch you die ?"  
  
It took a moment for Tajima to process this. To actually hear the words over his own thoughts, his brain so slow, so, so overwhelmed with everything happening, his anxiety yelling at him he was stupid, that he should have never done this, how he had ruined everything again the way he had with Madara back then and he was going to die without even his one friend by his side. But slowly, the words sank in, their meaning taking over and he looked up, he grimaced, his throat too tight.  
  
"You don't love me," he stated the cold, harsh truth, the one that had been killing him for the past ten years. "And you aren't into men. It's not like you can do anything."  
  
"I …. Don't," Butsuma admitted and his tone was nothing but low now, the anger gone. "But I can't bear to lose you. I've felt like shit since that night at the hospital. So, I'm going to do what I can to save you."  
  
"You don't love me," Tajima repeated, as if it was enough an answer. Butsuma snorted.  
  
"Aren't dates meant to help develop certain feelings for certain people ?" He said, rolling his eyes.  
  
Tajima couldn't help shaking his head at that. "But you don't have to. You .. don't have to act on guilt or .. I'm ready for what's coming. I've accepted it and everything is already sorted. You don't have to .."  
  
"I am your friend," Butsuma interrupted him and he placed his hand on his shoulder, squeezed it until Tajima relaxed again. "And I will do whatever I can to save you."  
  
Tajima would have probably felt relieved at the words, hadn't he laughed the way he did. He snorted, first, watching Butsuma as he did, giggled, chuckled and went on full laughter after a second or two, unable to hold back, unable to stop either for long, long minutes. And Gods did it feel good, to laugh his belly out like that, to let go of everything and just cry out in laughter, having to lean against Butsuma's shoulder because he couldn't hold himself straight anymore and shivering hard when, probably in an automatic manner, Butsuma wrapped his arm around his shoulder.  
  
"What the hell?" Butsuma mumbled and Tajima snorted a little more.  
  
"Oh fuck, now I get where your kids get it from," Tajima shook his head and he straightened, wiped the tears in his eyes. "They're all so intense all the time and I didn't understand why. But it's you. Gods it's you they took it from."  
  
Butsuma half glared at him but Tajima wasn't a fool. It was just a way to hide his proud smirk.  
  
"Now, are you finished mocking me ? Can we go ? On a date ?"  
  
Tajima glanced toward the table, toward the dinner that had been waiting for them but Butsuma shook his head.  
  
"No, I've thought of something else while you were being hysterical. You've spent literally days bugging me about that movie you wanted to go watch with me. Let's go see if they’re playing it downtown tonight.”  
  
The smile that pulled at Tajima's lips was genuine, entirely and completely so and he was quick to rise from his feet to go grab his jacket and slip his shoes on.  
  
"Will you buy me popcorn ?" He teased and Butsuma groaned affirmatively. "And candies ?"  
  
"Don't push it," Butsuma mumbled, taking his time to breath a little and rub his face.  
  
But he was determined, when he looked up. It showed in his eyes, in the way he was watching him and Tajima stopped moving, leaning against the door slightly because his legs were feeling like jelly under such an intense stare and slowly, very slowly, his brain was catching up with what was happening, what this all meant.  
  
Butsuma wanted to try. There was no guarantee it would ever work, his disease was well advanced now, he had only some weeks, maybe months left, and none of them could predict if Butsuma would ever start feeling like this towards him. But here he was still. Willing to take him out on a date and try because he wanted to save him, because he couldn't bear to lose him like this and it was enough, Tajima thought.  
  
It was enough and he couldn't help thinking that even if it didn't work .. well, he'd know exactly what an amazing friend Butsuma ever was and he was thankful. He would, at least, die without regrets and surrounded with people who loved him dearly.


End file.
